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Sierra Blasko Oct 2018
"Scabulous. Adjective.
Proud of a scar on your body,
which is an autograph
signed to you by a world
grateful for your continued willingness to play with her,
even when you don’t feel like it."
-The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

I am not afraid of scars;
They mean that I have chanced to live.

They mean that I have seen the world,
And the world has seen me.
That we have locked our gaze
Our eyes
Our wills in battle
Mortal combat
And it has blinked first.

They mean that I am a warrior.
They mean that I am a survivor.

They mean that I have healed,
Because scars come after wounds.
After we stitch closed
Our rips, and tears, and holes,
Patching ourselves up
Holding close our precious blood.

(Because a scar that still hurts
Means a fight unfinished.)

They are a warning.
They are a story.
They are a reminder.
Of love, and loss,
And life,
Beautiful life.

The moment when you catch a glimpse of death
Out of the corner of your eye.
And it sees you
And it nods
And you know it will come back
Someday
To collect.
But not today.
Because today
Today, you are the one who lives;
Third Eye Candy Nov 2018
versification is like ‘ taking notes ‘ in a plasma state.
the crest of a wave galloping the radius of a pinhead
to the center of
a word.

poetry is a conjuring of rare scabulous fables
told from lawn chairs, behaloed by fireflies and Occam's Razor.
with a warm breeze untangling the vortex into wee gems
tumbling in turbulent telemetries
malingering in the ginseng sonatas, gobbling the Nada… And-
with two hands, heaving a Sun ton of Moonlight
from the dark side of the same moon.
with your moonrocks made of wood.
and your Wisdom teeth
for flint.

— The End —